He Is Lover
by jarec
Summary: A rooftop rendezvous and much reflection. Part Four of the He Is series.


He's late

He's late. An hour late. I thought maybe he'd just gotten held up- that the Wayne Foundation meeting had run long, or that Alfred (sweet old man that he is) had forgotten to remind him that we had tickets to the hot new musical tonight. Then I saw that damned signal in the sky.

I didn't rant or rave. I didn't curse or scream (though I felt like doing both). All plans between us are temporary and conditional. I know that. I've always known that. No matter how he feels about me, about us, his Mission (and yeah, it's definitely capitalized) will always come first. 

So, I took off my new gown (twenty five hundred at Saks Fifth Avenue), slip off my new shoes (Gucci and oh-so-painful) and put on my old housecoat (a frayed pink thing given to me by one of my first boyfriends) and my old bunny slippers. If he comes by later, he does NOT get Happy Sexy Kitty-Cat. No, he'll get Frumpy and Pissed Cat. At least until he makes me purr, or Alfred sends over some apology cookies- whichever comes first.

He will be by later, he always is. He'll be sorry, he always is. He won't apologize, though; he never does. I wonder why he can't seem to leave me for good, even though he knows I'm the best thief in Gotham. I wonder why that is. It must kill him to know that everything in my home, right down to the bedsheets, is either stolen or was paid for with stolen money. Hey, cats don't work and Kitty likes her comforts. Sometimes I get a little laugh out of thinking of him getting back to his place, hopping into the Bat-Shower, and scrubbing with steel wool until all the 'evil dirt' is off. Most times, though it just makes me wonder why he comes at all.

I don't think its just the sex- good as we are together, he'd never put aside his self-righteous hero ethics just for a bit of nookie. Besides, we don't always have sex; last time we just stood up on the rooftop and watched the stars. Sometimes, I wonder if he feels the same connection between us that I do. The same feeling that we alone see the night- see the world- as it truly is. Other times, though, I wonder if the Bat has a thing for Bad Girls. Certainly what-her-name, Talia Arugala. What was it the Joker once said? The greatest conspiracy old man Ghul ever pulled off was convincing the world he was worth worrying about. Heh. I might not like the clown but he has his moments.

I decide that even Frumpy and Pissed Cat is too good for him tonight. I really suffered in those shoes, and I was looking forward to tonight for days. No, he deserves nothing less than Angry Catwoman. I quickly throw off the housecoat and slippers. I slip on the tight purple leather and black boots of my costume, making sure to take the whip with me. Hey, a girl can't be too careful in this city, especially not when she's out hunting bats.

As I head for the roof I wonder why I'm doing this. Our sick little relationship has caused me nothing but grief. It's getting harder and harder to face the others at the Iceberg; I keep wondering how long it will be before they decide I've gone over completely. I sometimes lie awake at night, thinking over which one will be the one to do it. The Joker is probably the worst of all possible choices; he'd like nothing better than to twist the knife in his enemies heart by presenting him with pureed Catwoman. Sometimes I think Twoface would be the best; no tortureno pain just two shots in the head with a .22. Quick and easy. All because I couldn't keep my hands above the utility belt. 

But more than that, he's changed me and I'm not sure I like how. I have this bizarre feeling that stealing is…well, wrong. I keep thinking about the people I've stolen from, how it might have hurt them. I never thought about that before; I figured whatever I stole was probably insured and that was good enough. Now I look over my trophies and wonder how many wedding rings and family heirlooms I have among them. Dammit, cats don't feel remorse! It's not natural!

But despite it all, I know I can't give him up; not now when we're so much closer than ever before. After years and years of games; of roof-top teasing that got us both hot and bothered. I still tingle when I remember that first night when we just let go and did what we'd been waiting years to do. Heh. First time I was ever glad that Gothamites ignore the sound of a screaming woman.

I move swiftly and silently across the rooftops, scanning for him. Contrary to what others would tell you, it is possible to find the Batman. The key is (and this is crucial) NOT TO LOOK FOR HIM. Seriously, if you go to where he's been and try to figure out where he's going, you'll fail. He plans his patrols with that in mind. The trick is to go to a place he's likely to be (say, the top of St. Michael of All Angel's roof) and then let your vision relax. Sooner or later, a light breeze will cause that cape of his to twitch and you should be able to catch the movement. I do, and I make my displeasure known with a jump kick.

Naturally, he's been aware of me this whole time. He catches my foot in mid-air and hurls me back in the direction I came from. he follows that up with a tackle, pinning me to the roof. He's playful tonight- or as close to it as he can ever come. He still hasn't told me what demons drive him- but whatever they are, they totally killed the mans sense of fun.

I feel his hot breath on my face. "the Riddler tried to steal a truckload of gold bars. It took me an hour to run down his getaway car."

I give him a purr-growl that says 'I've still not forgiven you but keep doing what you're doing', and reply "I'll kill him."

His face is pressed into the side of my neck, so I can FEEL his mouth twitch in that weird almost-smile he has. I don't know why he's laughing; I wasn't entirely joking. If Kitty's not purring, someone feels her claws. "Unnecessary. I forgot to mention that it was the 2nd national bank. With today being the 22nd of the month…well, I think Nygma's going to have problems of his own."

I chuckle. TwoFace gets irked when people hit 'his' targets.

Slowly, gently at first and with increasing passion, we enjoy our time together. In the afterglow, as I watch him swing away into the night, I reflect on how much I need him.

He is my lover. My angel. My conscience. Batman.


End file.
